


If you close your eyes, does it almost seem like nothing changed at all?

by contourdeto



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mark of Cain fic, Season 9 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 17:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contourdeto/pseuds/contourdeto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Destiel parallel to Cain and Collette's scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If you close your eyes, does it almost seem like nothing changed at all?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Pompeii by Bastille for no other reason than I was listening to the song while writing this.

Where Dean's racing heartbeat should've been, there is only silence.  
  
The world has narrowed in to the sound of his boots striking the pavement. The world has narrowed in to the black door behind which he dares not think about, not yet. There are too many demons between himself and that door. The thought gives him glee where it once caused his heart to fill with terror.  
  
The blade in his right hand is already slick with blood and the angry red gleam dances in his vision as he raises it to strike again. He keeps his momentum as he slashes past two demons, the blade cutting through their flesh as easily and excitedly as a child through wrapping paper.  
  
Dean thinks he's yelling, thinks he may be crying; in anger, rage, happiness, or fear, he doesn't know.  
  
The next demon he engages brings him down on top of it where he can see his own twisted reflection in the black glint of its dying eyes. His own coal black eyes seem to consume his face and he's distracted for a moment, remembering Cas. Remembering Cas forcing him to look in the mirror. Remembering Cas telling Dean that he still loves him. That he's still worth everything. That he still deserves to be loved despite his mistakes. Dean cried into Cas' shirt after that, but held onto that moment where he really believed that he wasn't an abomination.  
  
Dean plunges the First Blade into the demon's chest and rises, ready for more. The small part of him that remembers his goal, that keeps him heading towards that black door, flinches every time the blade slides through the soft flesh of a throat. He had abstained for so long from these urges that his thirst now seems insatiable.  
  
That small part fades away until he reaches the black door. Sticky blood covers his forearms and there are splashes across his face and body. The steel door handle turns red as he opens the door.  
  
Castiel is tied to a chair, unconscious. Dean feels a tug in the center of his chest, where his heart used to be, pulling him towards Cas.  
  
He starts forward but freezes when a voice that is not Castiel's comes from Cas' lips.  
  
"Nice of you to show up, Squirrel," the accent causes Dean's blood to boil and he assumes a fighting stance when Cas' eyes flick open, red and opaque.  
  
"Get out of him, Crowley," Dean growls.  
  
"Aw, we wouldn't want to spoil the party now would we?"  
  
"What do you want, dickbag?" Dean is shifting forward, eyes not leaving those red ones, trying to ignore the fact that it's Cas because he can't think about that.  
  
"You know what I want, Dean. You, me, that sexy blade currently dripping blood in my direction, Grand Poobahs of Hell, et cetera et cetera. Happy times for everybody." Crowley's smile on Cas' face makes Dean feel nauseous.  
  
Dean has to take a moment to collect himself, because this was all his fault. His fault for trusting Crowley to begin with, his fault for not protecting Cas, letting Crowley take them by surprise. If he even thinks about that, he'll collapse. So he lets the blade take over. Let's his anger simmer over and spill over his skin. Dean sees red.  
  
He takes the step forward so he can slam his hands down on the chair arms, ignoring when his fingertips brush Cas' wrists.  
  
"Get out of Castiel, Crowley! Then we can talk," his voice is hoarse from screaming.  
  
"Ah, ah, ah, I don't think you want me to do that." Crowley grinned as he pulled back the hem of Cas' trenchcoat to reveal a bloody stab wound in Cas' abdomen.  
  
"See Dean? There's nothing left for you here. Your angel boyfriend is dead, your moose doesn't love you anymore, what have you got to lose?"  
  
Dean was wrong before. He did have a heart. No, no, no, please no. He thinks as he sags against the chair, against Cas' front. His mind is blank. All the anger had gushed out of his toes at the sight of Cas' bloody stomach.  
  
"Join me, Dean," Crowley is grinning now, because he knows. He knows that he's right. He knows that Dean will succumb to the power of the Mark now that he has nothing to hold on to.  
  
Dean looks up into the face of his angel, skewed and darkened by the demon possessing him, by his red eyes. In that moment, he again sees his reflection, sees the image of his own face, twisted with grief this time, filled with his black eyes. He remembers Cas' hand on his shoulder, where his handprint used to be, telling him he's loved. That he's not an abomination. You could never be an abomination, Dean. Not to me.  
  
The red of those eyes seems to fill him, his anger insurmountable this time. Dean has been through so much. Fought for humanity over and over, and damned if he was going to lose his. He deserves something.  
  
He raises the First Blade over his head, preparing to strike, his enraged scream echoing in the room. He can see though, when it's too late, that moment of panic in the red eyes.  
  
Then Dean's plunging the blade into the chest of the man he would give everything for, but Crowley is already smoking out.  
  
Immediate numbness rocks through his body, emanating from the point of contact of the edge of his hand as it wraps around the blade's handle and the warmth of Cas' chest as he begins to bleed.  
  
Dean is beyond panic, pulling the blade out swiftly, throwing it behind him and pressing his hand into the wound. His stupid brain is already trying to excuse his actions by blaming it on the blade, but his mind is too clear to lie to himself.  
  
"No, no, no, no, no, Cas I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I wasn't trying -- " Cas' eyes blink open, sapphire blue again, crinkled in pain.  
  
"Dean," his wretched name comes out a gurgle as blood starts trickling from the corner of Cas' mouth.  
  
"Cas, Castiel, please," Dean knows he's crying now, puts one bloody hand on the side of Cas' face. The numbness is gone now, but it feels like there's a black hole in his chest, and it's compressing his entire being.  
  
"Dean, your eyes," Cas is staring up at him beseechingly.  
  
"What, what about my eyes?" Dean's vision is blurry and he furiously blinks away the tears because he needs to be able to see Cas.  
  
"They're green again," Cas' last word trembles as he fades away.

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought it would be interesting if the cure for Dean's demonity (is that a word??) was Cas' death... ?


End file.
